


Yearn

by tonytonesphoneroo5000



Series: redemption takes effort and intent [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oblivious Liam, Pack Bonding, Redemption Takes Effort, Scent Marking, Scott is a Good Friend, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Theo Raeken is Liam Dunbar's Anchor, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-20 20:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21062519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonytonesphoneroo5000/pseuds/tonytonesphoneroo5000
Summary: Theo isneverembarrassed. Theo is never anything but calm, and cool, and frustrating, with his stupid perfect hair and that smirk he does when he’s being smarter than everyone and the fact that his eyes crinkle when he smiles for real, which is rarely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original title of the fic: "-_- aka he makes theo all hot and bothered without even meaning to" you can absolutely blame mx_carter for this AS USUAL and also the fact that i've watched all six seasons of teen wolf twice

“Um, that’s...that’s a body.” 

If Theo could physically roll his eyes out of his head, he’d be doing it right now, Liam’s pretty sure. He kicks at the body at Liam’s feet with a toe, rolling it over. From the back it was okay, but the front is kind of bloated and green, tongue lolling out. Liam _thinks_ it used to be a man. He retches, smells rot and wet and old, lingering fear. 

“Yes, I know it’s a body,” Theo says, like he hasn’t just showed up in Liam’s _fucking house_ at three in the morning with a corpse over one shoulder. He doesn’t even look worried, or messed up. Just kind of tired, dark circles under his eyes. He doesn’t smell different, but they all learned the hard way how good Theo is at hiding his scent. Liam doesn’t bother listening for his heartbeat.

“I thought you were done killing people,” Liam says, feeling disappointed, and embarrassed about that disappointment. Theo is...Theo. He’s never going to be as nice as Scott or Mason, or even Stiles. Well, Liam’s not so convinced of Stiles’ niceness. There has to be something darker there to keep people like both Derek _and_ Lydia around. Anyway, Theo has become pack, one way or another, another thread of personality in the back of Liam’s mind like the rest of them. Liam doesn’t want to have to fear Theo all over again. Theo’s lips tighten, and Liam immediately feels guilty. He saw Theo take Gabe’s pain, he knows Hell was enough of a reform that Theo probably isn’t much of a danger to anyone anymore. “I’m-”

“I didn’t kill him,” Theo interrupts. 

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” 

Theo gives him a sardonic look, crouches to touch at the corpse’s throat, his chest; Theo has nice hands, Liam realizes. Theo has nice everything. “I found him in the Preserve. He’s been dead about four, five days. Something supernatural killed him. See these marks at his throat?” 

Liam leans closer despite himself, holding a sleeve over his nose. The man does indeed have three tiny runes where his collar bones meet, almost invisible against the decomposition. “Okay...But why’d you bring him to me?” It would make more sense to bring him to Scott, or Stiles, or even Deaton who knows the most about the supernatural.

Theo’s hand pauses where he’s still touching the marks on the man’s throat; he seems comfortable with corpses. Liam doesn’t want to think of the reasons for that. “I don’t…” He rocks back on his heels, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know,” he admits, which is rare. Theo’s so hyper-competent compared to the rest of them, besides Lydia. He has an answer for everything. “I smelled you, and I wanted to show you…” He trails off, and Liam could _swear_ the very tips of his ears are turning red, which is so bizarre he almost laughs. 

Theo is _never_ embarrassed. Theo is never anything but calm, and cool, and frustrating, with his stupid perfect hair and that smirk he does when he’s being smarter than everyone and the fact that his eyes crinkle when he smiles for real, which is rarely. “It’s fine, dude. Let’s just bring it to Scott, he’ll want to hear about this.” 

Things have been calm since Monroe fled the town, as the older members of the pack went off to college and the town returned to uneasy peace. Liam still can’t look some of his neighbors in the eye, can’t forget what they tried to do to him. What some of them _did_ do to Brett and Lori, almost killed them, left them to crawl away and heal slowly. Now, the whole pack is back together for the summer, and Liam sort of feels bad that he’s thinking it might be Scott’s fault the trouble is coming back, with no supernatural seemingly capable of resisting the draw of the True Alpha.

“Right,” Theo says, hefting the corpse over one shoulder. “Let’s put him back in my truck.” 

“I...didn’t mean right now.” It’s three in the morning, everything still in the spring air turning to summer; Liam only has a couple weeks of high school left before he graduates, goes off to a college upstate, close enough that he can keep an eye on Beacon Hills. Someone has to. 

“I’m not keeping a dead body in my truck, the Sheriff won’t even bother arresting me if he sees this, he’ll just start shooting.” Liam laughs til he realizes Theo’s serious, getting that squinty eyed look he has when he’s forced to have real emotions. “He’s soft on you guys cause you’re pack. I’m different.” 

“You’re pack,” Liam protests, following Theo as he strides to the car, hauling the body into the truck bed with a sickening sound that’s wetter than it should be. Liam gags again, but Theo is unbothered, pushing the body onto its back until it could almost be someone sleeping, if you don’t look closely. Liam is definitely _not_ looking closely.

“Only cause of you. Cause you’re soft.” Liam isn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not, decides to just climb into the passenger seat of Theo’s ridiculous truck as Theo gets in the other side. 

Inside the truck it overwhelmingly smells of Theo, of dead leaves and biting cold like the middle of fall, the underlying reek of the chemicals Liam assumes is his chimera side. Liam wishes he didn’t find it so comforting, wishes Theo wasn’t his anchor. Wishes he could tell Theo _about_ the anchor thing.

Liam yawns, reminded of the stupid early hour, that he’s still in the plaid sweats he wore to bed, a sweatshirt hastily thrown over that. It’s too early to think about all that. He tips his head against the window, lets his eyes close for just a second…

He wakes up to Theo’s less than gentle hand shaking him awake as they pull into Scott’s driveway, where Argent’s car seems to have become a permanent fixture. They would just climb into Scott’s window like Stiles apparently used to do, but with Argent here it’s liable to end in broken limbs, at the very least. They’ll heal; that doesn’t mean they’ll like it. 

So they knock on the door, Liam occasionally sending nervous looks back at Theo’s truck where the corpse is. There are _probably_ no cops patrolling the neighborhood right now, but Liam has learned not to rely on luck. Theo, of course, is the picture of calm, hands in his pockets, heart beating steadily when Liam bothers to listen to it.

Scott opens the door, Malia behind him, both of them curious but not concerned yet. Liam inhales, smells the safety of his Alpha that always settles something deep in his bones that only started being there when he turned, smells pack. Malia smells like warm, clean fur, Ms. McCall and Scott are an almost identical combination of what Liam can only think is the smell of a sunbeam, and then Argent smells like the wolfsbane he still always carries on him. Liam smiles despite himself, shoulders relaxing. “Hey.”

Scott waves them in, Theo closing the door behind himself. He looks a little awkward here, shooting a glance at Ms. McCall, probably thinking about the time he killed her son. It doesn’t seem to bother her; she’s already heading back up to bed, grumbling something about a double shift. Liam hears a door close behind her and then, swiftly, the slowing sounds of her falling back asleep. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

Despite the early hour, Scott is happy to see them, hugging Liam, touching Theo’s shoulder. Grounding them, like always, the whole pack gathered around Scott like they would a campfire. When he steps back Malia scents at his ear, his neck, brushing her nose there once almost like a habit. Liam thought it was weird at first, how much he wanted to _touch_ and _smell_ all his friends, but he got used to it pretty quickly.

“Theo found a body,” Liam says without preamble, motioning towards where Theo’s truck is parked outside. To their credit, neither Scott nor Malia rush to the conclusion Liam did, though Argent crosses his arms over his chest, gaze going to Theo.

There’s a visible difference as Scott turns from just Scott to the Alpha, his expression sharpening. “Let’s see,” Scott says, and they follow him outside. 

* * *

After Scott realizes he has no clue what happened to the body, and Argent has to admit he doesn’t either, they leave it there and Theo drives him home. Theo seems lost in thought, chewing at the inside of his cheek; Liam can hear the raw, wet noises, tries to keep himself from wincing. He used to bite his nails, before. Used to. You can’t really have habits like that around people with supernatural hearing. 

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Liam says when they get back to his house, standing in between the door and the car.

“Why would you see me tomorrow?” 

Ever since the hospital, Theo has been kind of just...around, almost like he doesn’t want to be and can’t help it. Liam’s finding it surprisingly easy to get used to his company, even to enjoy it. Theo is funny, makes little asides that are so pointed Liam feels kind of bad for laughing at them, wraps up everything in layers of meaning Liam has to untangle, but he finds he likes the challenge. He just has to keep pushing until Theo gives in, softens enough that Liam can treat him like the friend he’s becoming. 

“You see me every day, dude.” Theo gives him an inscrutable look. “I mean, it’s not a bad thing.” Liam loves it. “I like hanging out with you.”

Even when they’re just playing video games and they get weirdly competitive until Mason has to calm them down, surprising Theo with the fact he’s making friends. 

Theo scoffs, putting his truck into gear so Liam steps back, letting the door swing shut, peering through the open window. “I’ll see you later,” is all he says as he peels away, Liam stepping back and away. It’s five, enough time to get an hour of sleep in before school starts. He rubs a hand over his face; he would’ve thought being a werewolf wouldn’t involve so much sleepless nights and confusion. At least there are some good parts.

* * *

Theo does indeed show up the next day, looming outside Liam’s window in a way that would be terrifying if Theo wasn’t, weirdly enough, one of his closest friends. He’s carrying a plastic bag, fits his broad shoulders through Liam’s window without difficulty, with that grace Liam’s so jealous of.

“Hey,” Liam greets, not getting up from his bed where he’s been studying for hours, the sour taste of hunger in the back of his throat that he’s been ignoring. He shuffles through some papers for World History, not paying much attention as Theo settles himself into Liam’s desk chair, tosses something at Liam that he catches without thinking. The bag crinkles, Liam sniffing once, twice, smells cooked meat and veggies, enough for him to lift his head. 

He’s holding a BLT from the diner down the street he goes to every weekend with his mom, their favorite place. They started going just after his dad left, before she started dating Dr. Geyer. Their BLT is his comfort food, and he blinks at Theo with surprise, then pleasure. “Dude! Thank you, I was starving.” Theo looks almost bewildered, like he didn’t mean to bring Liam his favorite food. Liam watches from the corner of his eye as he chows down, watches the tips of his ears turn red, which is cute. Theo is cute sometimes, when he’s taken by surprise. “You didn’t have to bring me anything, you know.”

“I...had to,” Theo mumbles, taking another sandwich out of his plastic bag. His probably has superfoods or something healthy like that in it, Liam doesn’t bother smelling to check. 

“You _didn’t_ have to,” Liam answers, concerned. Theo is his friend, he doesn’t have to bribe Liam to be in his company. 

“No, it’s not that, I just. I wanted to.” Liam smiles, placated, and goes back to enjoying his sandwich. 

* * *

Not every injury has to be supernatural; Liam takes a cleat to the temple at practice, gushes blood onto his jersey, his undershirt. Today of all days would be the one he forgot to bring extra clothes for. If he was human, the injury would’ve required stitches. As is, Coach just insists on sending him home, calling someone to pick him up. His dad’s working and his mom’s a couple states away visiting his grandparents; Liam calls Theo instead.

By the time Theo pulls up the injury has healed entirely, Liam touching his temple where it’s sticky with blood with an annoyed grimace. This is going to take forever to wash out of his hair, his clothes. He knows all the tricks for removing bloodstains now.

Theo doesn’t appear concerned with the blood after a quick look over, and Liam doesn’t really think about it when he grabs one of Theo’s sweatshirts from the backseat of his car, switches it out for his bloodstained jersey. The sweatshirt is soft, a little long in the arm but tight at the shoulders where Theo is thinner. It has a coyote logo, which Liam is sure Theo thinks is hilarious, and it smells like Theo, Liam putting his nose to the collar and inhaling on instinct, feeling his shoulders relax. Anchored.

He drops his backpack there, gets in the front seat and is buckled up before he realizes Theo is staring at him, nostrils flared. 

“I know, it looks pretty bad. I don’t know how I’m going to explain the lack of stitches to Coach.” 

“You’re wearing. My sweatshirt.”

Liam plucks at the front of it, smiling. “Yeah, sorry, my stuff was all gross. I’ll wash it and give it back.”

“You don’t need to wash it,” Theo says all in a rush, going a little faster than the grandma speed he usually does, continuously glancing over at Liam. 

“What?” 

“You don’t need to wash it,” Theo says like it’s being forced from him. “You smell...like pack. It’s comforting.” 

Liam knows he’s gaping, but he can’t help it. There’s something warm blossoming in his chest as Theo puts a hand over his heart-his sister’s heart-and rubs at it, anxious. Liam’s seen him do it before, wonders if Theo knows he has a tell ever since he came back from underground. 

“Okay, uh, no problem.” Liam rubs the fabric against his pulse points, his throat and wrists, getting the strongest part of his scent there. He likes the idea of Theo pushing his nose there when he’s alone, finding comfort. Theo makes a small noise, like a whine. Liam beams at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you're all terrible people for encouraging this from me -_- 
> 
> also i love how scott's MO is that he pretty much just turns all his enemies into his friends and just forgives them for past crimes (Peter, the Twins, Deucalion, Theo, Jackson etc) and if the show was deep, i would say he forgives them because they have to move forward to escape the cycle of violence lol

There are two things Theo will never tell Liam. 

One, that he feels anything towards him besides friendship, and two, that there were times in Hell that his sister ripping her heart out of him was freeing, a literal weight off his chest. 

He can still feel her fingers there, icy with sharp little nails. Theo wishes he had excuses for what he did to her, that he didn’t stand there to watch her die, wanting power he could never get on his own. Was it worth it? Probably not. 

Now, Theo has to keep living, doing a shitty retail job at the grocery store downtown, sleeping in the apartment Peter surreptitiously pays for. Theo’s not sure if the rest of the pack knows, if they’d even care that he was homeless, that Peter came to him a couple days after the hospital with an offer of a home, for free. Theo doesn’t trust him; he recognizes a kindred spirit in Peter, which is _exactly_ why he doesn’t trust him. 

But he’ll take Peter’s occasional weird, vaguely sinister visits if it means having a home. Just a mattress on the floor, a dresser, a couch that Theo bought with the vague hope someone will come over. Besides Peter.

It doesn’t feel like home yet, but nowhere ever has. Theo likes that his scent is everywhere though, some deep part of him pleased by what’s _his_. 

* * *

Liam likes having everyone home, likes having Scott’s house as a base to go to whenever he wants. Everyone ends up there at some point during the day, even Deaton or Peter, dropping off food, watching TV, the werewolves especially drawn there, drawn to _pack_. Liam drops his bag off at the door, accepts the hug Ms. McCall gives him, Scott’s wide, bright smile and Stiles’ jokes about his long hair. He doesn’t mind Malia wrapping him in a hug, lifting him a little off the ground, rubbing her face against his. He likes that the Sheriff will casually ruffle his hair as he walks past when they’re all watching TV, and that even Lydia’s mom comes to pack dinners sometimes, not smelling like pack but not feeling wrong, either. 

He ignores the awful, slightly sick feeling he gets when they’re not all together, though, when it’s all of them without Theo, who’s welcome but can’t seem to accept it, will linger at the boundaries of pack meetings when he deigns to come. They’ll get there someday. Until then, Liam has this constant feeling under his skin, enhancing the anger that’s always there. 

* * *

Another body is found in the Preserve, by Malia this time. It confuses Liam, that Lydia doesn’t keen for everyone who dies, but he figures she would never stop screaming if that was the case. 

This body belongs to a woman; they all gather around it in the Preserve, called by Malia’s howl. Theo is there, standing a little away from them, at Liam’s back. It makes the nape of Liam’s neck warm, feeling his eyes there. He thinks of Theo’s hands, his claws. Thinks of his own claws on _Theo’s_ neck, holding him still, holding him down, and frowns with it, tries to pay more attention to where Peter and Deaton are bent over the body. 

“It’s witches,” Deaton says, tracing the runes between the woman’s collar bones; she’s fresher than the first one, still smells more like she did in life. Cloves, stress, pungent fear of whatever killed her.

“Like you?” Stiles asks, crouching as well, unafraid. Liam figures he’s seen worse than a single dead body. If the story Stiles tells about when Scott was bitten is correct, this whole thing started with a single dead body. 

Deaton frowns, taps the runes once. “I’m a druid. Not a witch.” 

“Same difference,” Stiles mutters.

“I gain power from the elements. Witches take from people. Some take more than can be safely given; that’s why you’re finding these bodies.”

“I want everyone to have a partner, for tonight. Safety in numbers,” Scott decides, looking around at them all. Even Peter straightens a little. “Me and Malia, Stiles with Derek and Lydia, Corey and Mason, and Liam with Theo.” He doesn’t mention Deaton or Peter, who are part of the pack but mostly do their own thing.

Liam’s not surprised to be put with Theo, he’s the only one Theo really spends any time with after all, but he hears Theo’s heartbeat kickstart and then forcibly slow, turns back to look at him. “You good?” 

They turn to look at Theo, mostly curious. It’s been a long time since they all hated him, and Liam figures they feel the way he does; that the Theo who went to Hell is not the same person who came back. That the nightmares he has now, how he constantly, absentmindedly touches the place where his sister’s heart beats, sometimes looks off like he’s seeing someone who isn’t there at about the height of a little girl, is enough of a payment for what he’s done. Especially when Scott is trying to end the violence that seems to haunt every supernatural creature they come across.

“I’m fine.” Theo stares them all down until they collectively shrug and turn back to the body.

* * *

“So, sleepover?” Liam jokes as they take the trail back to Theo’s car. He’s been driving Liam everywhere, which is much appreciated, and Liam likes how his own scent is starting to mingle with Theo’s in there, the more sugary, earthy scent of it. Hayden said he smells like a mango flavored Juul pod, which he thinks was meant to be a compliment. “Alpha’s orders,” he reminds Theo; for someone who tried to kill Scott once, Theo is pretty good about following his rules. Theo nods, cranking up the AC the moment Liam starts to feel overheated. “You can take the guest room, my parents won’t mind.” They’ve met Theo a couple times, and his mom thinks Theo is handsome, charming. Liam has to agree. 

Except, when they get to his house, it turns out his mom’s college roommate, Rochelle, is visiting, and _she’s_ taking the guest room with no place for Theo. 

“You can sleep with me,” Liam decides, ushering Theo into his room; the couch is a little too small for someone of Theo’s height, and Liam’s bed has plenty of room. Theo just stands there in the doorway, nostrils flared, gripping the duffel bag with his name embroidered on both straps. Liam takes time to wonder who did that for him. His mom? Does he even have parents? Liam gives a mental shrug, starts trying to clear his room up a little; it’s mostly just lacrosse stuff, trophies, clothes on his desk chair. Theo seems to be almost unnaturally neat though, and Liam doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. “Sorry it’s kinda messy.” 

“It’s fine,” Theo says after a moment, smiling easily, putting his duffel bag down near Liam’s dresser. “It’s not like I haven’t been here before.”

“Right.” Of course. Liam’s being stupid, nervous for some reason as Theo turns away, stripping his overshirt off. Underneath he’s just wearing a white tank, the muscles in his arms bulging, showing off a strip of skin at the small of his back where the shirt doesn’t quite cover. Liam licks his lips, starts fixing his bed up instead of ogling Theo or whatever it was he was doing.

It’s late enough that Liam would be toast at school, so he’s grateful it’s a Saturday night. Nothing happens on Sundays; Doctor Geyer goes to church, but Liam and his mom never have. Liam’s not even sure he was baptized, isn’t even sure if he’s part of a religion that _does_ baptisms. He’s broken from those thoughts by Theo, stripped down to the undershirt and boxer shorts that only showcase how his legs are perfect, too, as he settles in Liam’s bed, under the covers. Getting his scent all over the place, Liam knows, which will be nice when he’s gone and Liam’s lonely.

Liam hurries to change, too, suddenly wondering if maybe his bed is too small after all. Theo’s not a particularly big person, but he seems huge as Liam crawls in after him, accidentally touching his leg, brushing the curve of his waist with one hand. It’s dark, which is no obstacle for werewolf eyes. They look at each other for a moment, Liam breathing in his scent, the warmth of them under the covers. “So, uh…” 

“I have work at seven. Wake me up if a witch crawls in the window,” Theo says, smirking.

Liam laughs, reaches out to punch his shoulder like he usually would, but it feels weird under the covers, more intimate than he thinks they are. He pulls his hand back, hoping Theo doesn’t notice. Unlikely. If he does, he’s kind enough to pretend not to, closes his eyes instead. Liam intends to do the same.

Liam can’t sleep. Theo seems to be completely out, his heartbeat slowed, rolling over at some point so his back is to Liam. Liam stares at him, wanting…something, wanting to put his teeth in the vulnerable point at the back of Theo’s neck where the bulge of his spine is waiting, wanting to hold him there, hold him down to do...what? The part of him that Liam is pretty sure is the wolf knows, has him reaching out a hand to touch Theo where he’s hot through his shirt, the faint ridges of his spine. 

Theo shivers, makes a noise in the back of his throat. Every part of Liam wants to hear that noise again, has him trailing a finger, quick, up Theo’s back before he pulls his hand away and turns it into a fist, holding it to his chest where his heart is pounding. 

Theo rolls back to face him, and Liam hadn’t realized how much stress Theo holds himself under until he sees his face relaxed, brows tipped up, snoring a little which Liam is _definitely_ going to tease him about later and _definitely_ doesn’t find adorable. He mumbles the name Tara once, sounding wistful, a little bewildered, his heart pounding just a few moments before he settles out again. 

Liam takes in the smell of him again; Theo kind of smells like him now, in the place Liam spends every night, it stands to reason that anyone in his bed would start to smell the same. The wolf is hotly satisfied, enough that Liam can finally drop off to sleep, even if the wolf is telling him to lick behind Theo’s ears for some reason.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aw. I wish this was the worst thing I have planned for Theo.
> 
> :)
> 
> (Everything ends happily, don't worry.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild tw for claustrophobia, suicidal thoughts, semi-accidental self harm
> 
> keep the comments coming they are very encouraging
> 
> also brett and lori aren't dead because i say so. it depressed me to think that satomi lived for so long and was so cool only to have everyone she tried to protect die. 
> 
> also also i know this isn't the "official" makeup of the pack but uhhhhh i do what i want

Theo wakes up once, in the middle of the night. Liam is curled up against his back, hands in fists there like he’s fighting even in his sleep. 

Theo had been dreaming, saw himself back with his pack, the pack he killed. Mostly. He’s grateful he didn’t succeed with Corey and Hayden, the one not-terrible thing he did with his life before. He’s never stopped to consider what he thought would happen after he had a pack, when he was the Alpha. What was he going to do with them? For all his plans, he never thought about what he’d do when he achieved his goal.

Now, he has no plans besides Beacon Hills, or going wherever Liam goes. If Liam will take him, as if Theo deserves that kindness. 

There’s nowhere else for him to go back to. His real parents died soon after Tara did. His father was a wolf; Theo was too young to know how to hide his chemosignals. His mother was human. She had tried to defend Theo, when his father realized the truth and went for him. She had not succeeded. After, his father had ripped him nearly to shreds; Theo probably should’ve died. His father walked into the barrel of a hunter’s gun soon after, and the doctors stitched Theo up, like nothing had happened. There’s a pack out there, his father’s pack, wondering what happened to one of their own. 

He presses a hand to where his sister’s heart has begun to pound, hears Liam’s sleep-soft murmurs of reassurance. “S’okay, Theo,” he mumbles, throws an arm around Theo’s waist, presses his nose to the place between Theo’s shoulderblades. The fabric is so thin, Theo goosebumps immediately, goes rigid. 

He’s not used to being touched, especially his side where he’s so vulnerable. He spent so many years with the doctors, now that he doesn’t have everything planned, he never knows what to do. Should he push Liam away? Everything in him is against that, so he allows himself to settle, try not to focus on Liam’s hand just above his waistband, Liam’s breath hot through his shirt. It doesn’t work; he’s getting hard, hopes Liam can’t smell it.  
Probably not. Most of the pack besides the three Hales are pretty hopeless at anything to do with scent, a product of never having a knowledgeable Alpha. 

Liam’s hand slides down, cups his stomach just under his waistband, Theo whining in the back of his throat without meaning to. He’s had dreams like this, Liam behind him, mouth at the back of his neck, claws in the dip of his hips where he’s sensitive. He has other dreams, too, of his fingers in Liam’s ridiculous hair, in his mouth...Not really helping right now, so he thinks of Stiles, and the time he made a mistake and the doctors broke his spine, and baseball. It works well enough that he can fall back asleep, Liam’s slow heartbeat the background to his dreams. 

* * *

They find the witches, or, to be more accurate, Theo finds them. It’s two of them, twins, red-headed and skinny. They hold hands and chant and Theo is _furious_ with himself. When did he become the guy who rushes ahead into danger? He plots and sneaks and makes people destroy themselves, not the other way around. Why would he enter the abandoned warehouse, without calling anyone from the pack?

The witches turn to him, breaking out into identical, shuddery smiles. “Theo, you’ve been kind of a huge dick,” they say as one, which isn’t exactly what he was expecting to hear but, fair. “You made everyone sad, now it’s time to go back where you belong.”

“Wait, what-” he manages to get out as they point at him and it feels like the ground’s opening up underneath him again, hands around his ankles, Theo’s mouth opening to scream as he goes back under.

* * *

He wakes up in a box. He knows it, learned the corners, the dimensions. Six feet long, a foot in height, two feet in width. It’s a little bigger this time. He knows anyway. 

He feels the cold metal under his back, the sheet over his body, the sheet that he’d stain with his blood, hears the dragging feet of his sister coming closer and closer as her heart in his chest beats faster. The morgue. He’s not...He can’t...He got out, they put him back in, _he’ll always end up here_, choking on his own blood with Tara’s icy hands in his chest.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself but it’s stuck in his lungs, frozen there, his hands rising to beat against the top of the box until he feels the bones splinter and crack, blood splattering down onto his face, in his mouth. “No, no, no, not again, _no_, let me out,” he’d be embarrassed about crying if he realized he’s doing it, screaming, dragging his claws over the top of the box; he tried dragging his claws through Tara a couple times, tried muffling his screams so she wouldn’t find him. Nothing worked.

He feels the pain at the tips of his fingers as his claws break under the pressure, keeps digging, can’t think beyond the fear. He’ll be here forever with Tara, like he deserves, just punishment for everything he’s done.

He came to accept it, once, but it’ll be worse this time and Tara will do worse, he knows she will as the box is opened and he’s pulled up, Tara looking down at him with her mouth pulled into a terrible smile, bending over him, Theo sobbing and pushing her hands away, trying as always to make it go a little longer, a couple extra seconds before the pain, knowing he’ll be unsuccessful. He starts dragging what’s left of his claws over his own skin instead, hoping she’ll take less time if he makes a way for her, hoping if he kills himself she’ll have mercy. And then she slaps him, hard, across the face.

“Theo!” 

* * *

Liam doesn’t think these witches seem like too much of a big deal. They’re even smaller than Lydia, and they’re like seventeen, and Deaton took them down without a sweat. Except he’s concerned; he hides it well, but Liam can hear his heart pick up.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asks for all of them. 

The witch on the left grins with bloody teeth, spits it at Liam’s feet. He grimaces, steps back. “You better hurry up, we put your boy back where he thinks he belongs.” 

“You may already be too late; too bad he can’t regrow his heart anymore,” the other one says, fake pouting. “At least the death of a werewolf, even a fake one, will give us enough power to get out of here.” She motions at the strings Deaton has around their wrists, forcing them to the ground where they look up at everyone.

“Fake werewolves?” Liam looks around, even though something in him already knows, kicks his heart into pounding. The whole pack is here, every supernatural (and Stiles) besides… 

“Where’s Theo?” Lydia asks sharply, always seeing the answer before everyone else. 

“I haven’t seen him in hours,” Liam realizes, which is weird because Theo _always_ picks him up from lacrosse practice, has for weeks. Liam had just assumed he was called into work or something. The witches snort a laugh. “Where is he?” Liam snarls, leaning in close enough that he can smell their weird, rusty scent, see the blood still under their nails. They’d been eating a human tongue when they were found. 

“It’s probably too late already,” the one on the left says, running her tongue over her teeth. “Poor baby beta, all alone now.” 

“We’ll never tell,” the right one says, wrapping an arm around her twin’s waist, putting her head on her shoulder. “And we spelled him in so he’’ll _never_ get out.”

“You’ll tell,” Peter says, stepping between Liam and Deaton, his claws sliding out as he puts a finger underneath the left one’s chin, tipping her head back. “Unless you want me to slit your sister’s throat.”

The right twin stops smiling, makes a keening noise in the back of her own throat. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would cut her pretty little throat and continue with my pleasant Tuesday afternoon,” Peter says, smiling, his heartbeat even and calm. He pushes the left one up, onto her knees, a whimper leaving her mouth. Liam can smell the blood welling up from where Peter’s claw has broken the skin, but he makes no move to help her. Not even Scott does.

“Jenna, don’t tell,” the left twin whispers, wincing. 

But everyone can tell she’s going to; she breaks a moment later, pulling her twin away from Peter as she blurts, “He’s at the Lahey house, in the freezer.” Liam’s moving before she’s done speaking, closely followed by Scott, pulls himself into Scott’s car and waits the few tense seconds for the car to start.

* * *

They definitely break a couple speed laws on the way to Lahey’s house; Liam has heard of Isaac, but he’s never met him, only has a vague picture of him in his head. Tall, Argent had said, and a pain in the ass.

Liam’s not sure why there’s a freezer in the basement that he thunders down into with Scott, but he can smell Theo and pain and blood and most of all terror, doesn’t need werewolf senses to hear Theo’s screaming. 

He gets there before Scott, wrenches the freezer open to see Theo on his back, covered in blood, dragging his claws across his chest as he screams and punches at the air. Liam’s never seen him like this. Liam’s never seen _anyone_ like this, the fear so pungent it’s making his nose hurt, Theo sobbing out pleas to kill him quickly, that she can have her heart back, that he’s _sorry_. Liam’s never heard Theo say sorry; he’s pretty sure Theo is sorry for what he did, but he shows it in other ways, in being constantly helpful.

Liam watches blood spurt as Theo digs deeper into his chest, sees how the claws of his left hand are ruined down to the nail bed. Theo’s eyes lock on his and Liam’s not sure what Theo’s seeing, but it’s not his face. 

He asks for mercy, flexes his claws like he’s going to tear his heart out, and Liam does the only thing he can think of. He slaps Theo across the face. 

“Theo!”

Theo’s frozen for a moment; Liam can hear Scott’s fast pulse, and his own, can only smell Theo’s blood. Liam examines the furrows Theo left in the fridge, new marks across old ones that he doesn’t want to think about, feeling sick to his stomach. Everything about this house is horrible, stinks of sour fear and pain.

“L-Liam?”

Theo pulls his claws from his chest with a horrible sucking noise, and Liam wants him out of the freezer, not sure what to do, pretty sure that putting Theo in his lap would be weird. So he climbs in there with him, sits shoulder to shoulder with him, getting sticky with Theo’s blood. 

He risks an arm around Theo that Theo actually allows, Scott raising an eyebrow as he kneels next to the freezer, resting his arms on the rim. “Hey, buddy,” he says softly, sending out that Scott smell that’s like sunbeams and Alpha and comfort.

Theo relaxes a little, wipes at his face where everything just smears. Already his chest is healing, claws retracted, his broken fingers realigning themselves. “They put me back down there,” he says, helplessly. “I thought…” He shakes his head, once, like he’s trying to clear it. “It doesn’t matter. Did you catch them?” 

Calm, like Liam can’t hear the shaky breaths he’s trying to hide, his chemosignals all over the place. Liam doesn’t want to experience anything that could turn someone like Theo into this, doesn’t want _anyone_ to experience this. 

“We did,” Scott says. He pulls off his sweatshirt, offers it to put over the ruin of what used to be Theo’s shirt. Theo hesitates for a moment, but right now it’s clear he can’t resist the comfort offered by pack, by Alpha. Whenever Liam smells Scott he feels safe, safe like when he used to sleep in his mom’s bed when he was little. He’s pretty sure everyone else feels the same, drawn to Scott’s kindness, his insistence on protecting people no matter the cost. It would take a stronger man than Theo to refuse the comfort of being surrounded by Scott at a time like this; he slips the sweatshirt on, dares to sniff at the neck of it. It’s a little big on him. He even smiles a bit, matching Scott and Liam’s reassuring grins. “Let’s get you home, okay?” Scott says, offering a hand to pull Theo from the freezer, Liam following. “I’m burning this house to the ground,” he says as they start to leave, looking back at the propped open freezer, the blood filling it. “Nothing good ever happens here.” 

* * *

‘Home’ this time seems to mean Scott’s house, where the whole pack is waiting. Theo showers, wears Scott’s pajamas. Liam wonders if he knows that Scott’s purposefully giving him clothes he wears a lot, marking him as pack in an undeniable way.

Maybe not; Theo’s still off, a little distracted, constantly touching his fingers to where his sister’s heart beats. Liam thinks of the witch’s comment about regrowing hearts and wants to put his head there, hear the reassuring pulse of Theo being _alive_ and with him. Maybe he also doesn’t notice the whole pack closing ranks around him after Scott explained what happened while Theo was showering, but Liam notices. 

Ms. McCall makes sure Theo has the biggest helping of pasta, and Malia rubs her head against the back of his neck, earning a yelp. Corey will never be Theo’s number one fan, but he offers a, “Glad you’re okay,” after Lydia lectures for a good five minutes about stupid werewolves going off alone. She had been touching her throat where Liam is pretty sure a scream had started, thankfully never coming out.

Liam’s not sure if Theo knows he’s earning forgiveness, that he came to Beacon Hills to destroy Scott’s pack and ended up joining it instead. He doesn’t ask. 

The whole pack sleeps there that night, dragging in sleeping bags and cots, deciding to watch a movie. He can hear Argent, Ms. McCall, and the sheriff in the kitchen playing cards, sees Scott and Malia on the loveseat, Stiles stretched across an air mattress with his head in Lydia’s lap as he kicks at Derek’s thigh, Corey and Mason on the couch with Liam, who has Theo on his other side, pressed up close and uncomplaining. Peter’s probably lingering somewhere, too, watching them all. Liam feels at peace for once, the wolf inside him satisfied with the close press of people. 

* * *

Theo wakes once from a nightmare, Liam waking with him; he must’ve been monitoring Theo’s heartbeat in his sleep. Theo is on his back, still in his sleeping bag that he’s clawed at, which isn’t the first time one of the McCall sleeping bags has to be stitched up; Liam has what he recognizes as Argent’s neat stitches on his own bag.

“Theo,” he mumbles, reaching over to put a hand on Theo’s chest. In the dark, with the sounds of their pack around them, he wants Theo to feel safe. “You’re okay.” He almost jumps when he feels Theo’s fingers curl around his wrist, is expecting to be pushed away, braces himself for it. All Theo does is tighten his grip, holding Liam there, and when Liam looks over his face is vulnerable, open. It hurts things in Liam’s heart. “_Sleep_,” he insists, scratching once like Theo always does. They’re both asleep in a couple minutes, Theo still holding on to Liam’s wrist.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know what it is about me that boys who look like they could play Peter Parker make me go absolutely fucking unhinged for hurt comfort. Side note you should read aloneintherain if you're looking for just some devastating stuff along that vein. 
> 
> I know exactly who Isaac's girlfriend is, btw. (it’s me) (just kidding) (no I’m not LOL) (it's definitely me)

“Here,” Theo says a couple days after what Liam is privately calling ‘the fridge incident.’ People like them heal so quickly, it’s easy to forget all the damage they take. He can’t get the image of Theo’s ruined hands out of his head even as Theo uses those same hands to give Liam his sweatshirt, the gray one Liam’s pretty sure he’s had since before Hell.

It smells strongly of Theo, is big on Liam so he tucks his thumbs into the sleeves, grateful. “Dude, thank you! How did you know I was cold?” He hadn’t even started shivering. 

Theo looks away, across the lacrosse field where his team is playing; Liam is out for a game because he punched Brett in the face. He likes Brett now, or at least more than he used to, but the guy’s still a smug asshole. It was totally worth it to ruin that pretty face, even if only for the seconds it took the bones to heal. 

“I don’t. Um. I just knew.” Liam doesn’t bother pressing further, Theo liable to clam up if he thinks Liam is forcing him. Liam likes the Theo who came back from Hell, the Theo who’s slightly more serious, although he doesn’t like the Theo who jumps at noises in dark corridors. He shakes his head, clearing it, leans against Theo’s shoulder, grateful they’re both here.

* * *

“Theo’s not a bad guy anymore,” Liam argues with Stiles, who’s the last of them to still really hold a grudge, not that Liam can really blame him. He also gets the feeling Stiles is arguing just to argue, which drives Liam up the wall but Lydia seems to find it adorable and Derek just ignores him. 

“Liam, what, he spent a couple months underground and now he’s your best friend?” 

“Mason is my best friend,” Liam grumbles, earning a pleased wave from Mason across Scott’s living room, where they always gather. 

“You’re just like Scott, you like everyone.” Liam is pretty sure being compared to Scott is a good thing, coming from Stiles, so he takes the out and lets Stiles dig his knuckles into his shoulder like an annoying older brother, ignores Theo’s dark eyes from across the room.

* * *

“I’m not good now, you know,” Theo says later, when they’ve been playing video games in Liam’s room for like five hours, the house quiet around them. Liam can hear his step-dad and his mom’s slowed heartbeats, his mom snoring a little in her sleep.

“Yeah, obviously, we would’ve won that round if it wasn’t for you.”

“I don’t mean the game, Liam,” Theo says, putting his controller down. He’s staring straight ahead, doing that thing where he pushes his jaw forward and unfocuses his eyes. Liam doesn’t want to know what he’s seeing.

“Um. I think you are.” Maybe not _good_ good, not like Mason or Scott, but better. Less angry. Able to laugh at himself, able to hang around being normal with Liam and their friends. 

“You know what I hear when you say that?”

“What?” 

Theo twists his head, holding Liam’s eyes. “I hear your heartbeat skipping a little.” They sit in silence for a while, the tinny sound of the game in the background, Theo resting his elbows on his knees, bending his head so Liam can only see the side of his face, Theo as beautiful in profile as he is head on. “I’m never going to make up for what I’ve done. She’s never going to come back. None of them are. And I can’t change that even if I would do _anything_…” He trails off, hands turning into fists, blood welling up from where his claws must be out. Which is crazy, because Theo _never_ loses control of the shift. 

Liam doesn’t know what to say, moving in place, murmuring Theo’s name. 

“Do you know what you locked me down there with?” Theo asks, quiet and serious. Liam has some idea, remembers Theo in the freezer, always touching his heart-his sister’s heart- when he’s not thinking, saying Tara’s name in his sleep. Liam finally decides on a no, because he doesn’t, not exactly. Theo is touching the spot where Tara’s heart beats, drumming his fingers there. “I deserved it.” 

Liam reaches over, touches Theo’s knee, leaves his hand close enough that Theo could take it, if he wanted to. He doesn’t. Liam knows he wants to anyway.

* * *

Isaac Lahey is taller than Theo expected. He doesn’t know much about him, besides that one time he almost died in his fridge. Isaac smells confident, smiles a lot like he has a secret, is rude to Derek in a way that none of the other wolves dare to be. 

He also touches everyone, all the time; hugging Lydia, wrestling with Scott, putting an arm around Liam which makes Theo’s hackles rise. If he was shifted, he’d be snarling. As is, he watches Isaac from across Scott’s living room. 

Isaac is leaning in close to Liam, pointing out something in a book, Theo doesn’t _care_ what, wants to bare his teeth. Liam is his and now he’s going to smell like weird French cologne and pack that isn’t quite pack and simmering anger.

Isaac is almost draped over Liam; Liam is many things, but he’s not tall. Theo wants to do something, rip Isaac away, run his nose over the space where Liam’s collar bones meet, put his teeth there. He’s pretty sure he was less pathetic before he developed empathy. 

He’s also pretty sure Isaac has a girlfriend back in France or whatever, which doesn’t stop Theo from glaring when Isaac turns his gaze on him. His smile is friendly; Theo isn’t sure what the rest of the pack has told Isaac about him, can’t catch enough of a scent to know. 

“I hear you got to experience the magic of my childhood,” Isaac says, leaving Liam behind to come to Theo’s preferred corner, the spot that has a little bit of a draft so no one else wants it.  
Theo gives him a blank look.  
“The freezer,” Isaac explains, hooking his fingers like he, too, had once helplessly clawed the top of that thing. Theo has the feeling he has. 

It shouldn’t be funny but it is, Theo breaking into surprised laughter. “I...Yeah. Yeah, it was something.” Something Theo thinks about every week, at least once, being back in there, knowing he’s about to be chased through dark corridors, his sister breathing at the back of his neck. 

“It sure was.” 

* * *

Liam has no idea what to make of Isaac Lahey. He’s so _tall_, taller than anyone else in the pack, smells like the rigidly controlled anger that hides behind every smirk and also a girl, Liam thinks. Strawberries. 

Stiles and Scott seemed equally surprised to see him as the rest of the pack. Except for Argent, who welcomed him with open arms.

“Where’ve you been?” Stiles had asked, making this weird kind of gaping face. “We haven’t seen you in years, buddy.” 

“Oh, you know, I’ve been, like, around,” he said, which Liam found to be kind of annoyingly mysterious, but judging by Stiles’ eye roll that’s normal for him.

Then Liam feels kind of left out, cause Isaac, Stiles, Scott, Lydia, Derek, and even Ms. McCall are all gossiping about things that happened before Liam ever joined the pack, members who died before he knew the supernatural was real. Talking about Allison, which makes them quiet and somber, a barrier Liam isn’t sure he wants to cross. Liam knows about Allison, everyone knows about Allison, they just don’t really talk about it.

Liam knows he joined the pack late, that he was more of an accident than a chosen beta. It’s sending him into dark thoughts he doesn’t usually feel, so he’s grateful when Isaac throws an arm around his shoulders again, pulls him into the circle of people as Malia joins them too. Liam gets a weird sort of comfort that at least she feels the same. And it’s got to be worse for her cause she’s in love with Scott. Liam’s only in love with…well. He doesn’t want to say it in his head.

He forgets all about it when Isaac’s talking to him in fluent French, Liam responding in the rudimentary bullshit he learned as part of required foreign language classes. He’ll never get much beyond _Bonjour_, though Isaac doesn’t seem to mind, and he likes the way Isaac’s mouth looks around the words, how he’s softening up as time goes on.

Then of course Lydia speaks French, and they’re going back and forth, Liam basking in the feeling of pack, solid again like he’s supposed to be. He somehow gets tucked between Isaac and the arm of the couch, Isaac gesturing animatedly, making a joke about his shitty father that Liam feels genuinely guilty for laughing at. He even lets Isaac take a lock of hair between two long fingers, twisting it, making a joke about pretty boys.

Liam has to excuse himself eventually, makes it five steps to the bathroom before he’s being slammed up against a wall. He looks down at the hands curled in the front of his shirt, holding him in place, then up at Theo. It’s been a really long time since they did anything beyond play-wrestle, normal werewolf stuff, so Liam’s a little confused, wraps his hands around Theo’s wrists. 

Theo smells good, his normal dead leaves and fall scent almost spicier. His eyes are glowing. Liam can feel the bulk pressed against him; Theo’s not very tall, he’s just solid, though Liam knows that as a pure werewolf he’s stronger. He thinks about throwing Theo back against the opposite wall, pinning him there, letting the rest of the park hear his control over Theo, but this is okay, too. His heart is beating really fast.

“Uh, dude? Is everything okay?” he asks, examining Theo’s face. 

“He was all over you,” Theo snarls, darting in close and back, wavering. “You smell wrong now, he’s not _pack_.”

Liam realizes with a jolt that Theo wants to do what Malia does, wants to scent mark him. The thought sends a shivery feeling down his spine; he doesn’t think about what he does next, tilting his head back, exposing his throat so he’s vulnerable. Theo makes this subvocal growl that Liam’s pretty sure every supernatural creature and maybe even Stiles and Mason can hear. 

He doesn’t care, as Theo bends his head, rubs his nose along the curve of Liam’s neck, over his jugular, rubbing their cheeks together once before he dips his head to take Liam’s throat between his teeth; Liam can feel that his fangs are out, but Theo is gentle, only holds him in place like a warning. Liam feels his own eyes start to glow, has to whimper, grab at Theo’s broad shoulders. 

When Theo pulls back they’re both flushed, breathing hard. Liam’s had sex that felt less sensual then this, can feel the spot where Theo bit like it’s scarred there. Liam touches his neck, lets Theo go. They stare at each other for a moment before Theo groans and runs off, out of the McCall house and into the night.

* * *

“I’m in love with Theo,” Liam tells Mason later that night. Mason gives him a look like _duh_, which Liam has to admit is entirely deserved. Mason’s always been the quicker one of them, always getting good grades and spouting facts like it’s easy. Liam’s just strong. He’s not surprised Mason knew about this before he did. 

“Uh, yeah, dude, we know. Everyone knows. I think even Coach Finstock knows, and he never knows _anything_.” 

“_Everyone?_” That includes Peter and Stiles, who will never let this go.

“We all heard whatever that weird thing was in the hallway.” Mason’s smiling, fond, and Liam can’t be mad at him, not with how endlessly supportive and kind and _Mason_ he is with everything Liam throws at him. 

“I’m gonna tell him. Tonight.”

Looking at the past couple months, Liam is pretty sure his feelings are returned, so he’s feeling confident as he takes the last couple steps to Theo’s apartment, a place he’s only been to a few times. Until he slows, scenting the air. It smells like Theo, and fear, and...blood...He rounds the corner to see Theo’s door broken down, ripped off the hinges, the smell of wolfsbane so strong Liam has to cover his nose. Theo’s apartment is trashed, the mattress torn apart, dishes shattered all over, blood splattered across the walls. There are claw marks on the floor, like someone was dragged across them, desperately struggling, the claw marks turning into blunt human scrapings as they near the door for some reason. Liam staggers back and howls. Theo is gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read notes for TW!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic has been SUCH a blast to write, i'm so glad i got it off my chest, i loved writing them and they made me so happy :) 
> 
> TW: Suicidal thoughts, torture, near-death situations
> 
> i MAY have gone a little overboard with the hurt part...i've never written anything like this before so please lemme know if i should change anything  
i just go absolutely feral for theo being in pain idk why

_And this is why werewolves move in packs_, Theo thinks to himself as Monroe’s men drop him on the floor in what is definitely a basement people have died in. 

Theo came home from his absolutely disastrous whatever that was with Liam, the feel of Liam’s skin under his teeth still fresh, only to be met with five hunters and a grinning Monroe. A little insulting, only five hunters, if she didn’t also have a dart thing that left him unable to shift, drifting in and out of unconsciousness on the van ride back to Monroe’s base. 

He had almost forgotten about her, almost thought they were safe. He should’ve known better; a lone wolf is vulnerable. A lone wolf is even more vulnerable when there’s an insane murderer who hates him specifically.

Theo flexes his fingers, wishing he could at least shift a little, make himself feel better. It always feels safer to have the claws out, no matter how bad the odds are. 

He’s bleary as they strip him of his shirt, tie his hands to a hook on the ceiling. Oh, this is going to be _fun_. It’s not his first time being tortured, he reminds himself. 

At least his senses are still working, Theo able to hear the boots overhead, the hunters talking quietly amongst themselves about which piece of him they want to hang on their wall. He swallows, suddenly wishing his hearing wasn’t quite so perfect. 

This is...probably really bad. Monroe is more vindictive than other hunters, like she actually believes her own bullshit. That makes her dangerous. 

At least she doesn’t leave him waiting long, strolls down the stairs into the basement about five minutes after Theo was strung up. Good, he’d hate to sit here contemplating how ugly his death’s going to be for much longer. She’s carrying a black duffle bag that smells strongly of blood. 

Theo swallows, feeling the muscles in his stomach tense, breathing going shallow as he prepares for the pain. What happened to the good old days when they just beat you? He misses that.

With the way Theo is hanging, he’s looking down at Monroe as she steps up to him, an interested look on her pretty face. Theo feels kind of disgusted that he used to think she was hot. 

“Hi, Theo,” she says, smiling. He snarls at her, less effective with his human teeth. Her face never changes; she’s examining him, curious. 

After a couple silent minutes Theo can’t take it anymore, his body too tense, asks, “What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me where it is.”

“Where what is?” He’s genuinely confused, was expecting questions about Scott, about taking him down. Not that he would answer them, but it’s what they usually ask.

“That serum you used to bring back the other chimeras, where is it?” 

He blinks, surprised. She knows about something from that far back? Who told her? “Why do you want it?” he asks, hoping questions will keep the pain away a little longer. Maybe he’ll even be rescued. He’s not sure he deserves to be rescued, having already gotten his second chance. 

When she beams Theo can see how really, truly fucking crazy she is, the fanatacism glowing in her eyes. She honestly believes she’s doing the right thing, and she’s enjoying every minute of it. “I’m going to bring Gerard Argent back to life.” 

Theo swallows; Gerard hates werewolves, Scott’s pack specifically, and the last time he was around he almost succeeded in destroying them. Him and Monroe as a team were terrifying, nearly unstoppable. He thinks of Gerard standing over Scott, over Liam, over his pack, with that fucking broadsword in his hands, come back to finish the job. 

Everyone has finally started to relax, to live their lives as normally as possible. Gerard will take that all away from them. Stiles’ perfect grades, the five revolutionary math equations Lydia is working on, Malia’s quiet pride in her community college courses. Liam’s almost-successful senior year. Everything they’ve managed to snatch for themselves will be taken from them, again.

That’s not going to happen; Theo will hide the secret behind his teeth no matter how many of them Monroe breaks. “I have no idea where it is, sorry.” He’s lying, of course, knows there’s about a gallon of it hidden underground in one of the doctor’s old bunkers. The only other person who knew about it was Douglas, and he’s dead, and now Theo’s probably going to die with that secret, too.

Monroe frowns, turns to the duffel bag and begins to go through it. Theo can’t decide if it’s worse to look away or try to see what she’s taking out. He settles on staring over her shoulder, reminding himself that he’s been tortured before. It can’t be worse than what his sister did to him. 

“You know, I was going to use a knife,” Monroe says conversationally. “But then I remembered a little bit about your history, and I found something more appropriate.” Theo is beginning to wonder who _doesn’t_ know everything about him when Monroe turns around, holding a scalpel.

Sweat breaks out on his back, his forehead. Of course this fucking monster would...Of course. She’d have heard about the doctors and extrapolated, figured out what happened behind the scenes, because for all her evil, Monroe is brilliant. Theo was cut open and raw and screaming at least six times before the doctors declared him almost perfect, almost corrupted enough to be true evil. Which, obviously, they failed, or Theo wouldn’t be here giving his life for a bunch of teenage werewolves, but that didn’t stop them from trying further experimentation when Theo was the only subject available. They sometimes forgot to use anesthetic.

Theo lets out a breath through his nose. He’s not going to give her the satisfaction of screaming until he really has to. He knows it’ll come, the pain _always_ comes, he just wants to hide it for a little longer. 

“It has wolfsbane on it,” because of course it does. He can smell it from here, that sour scent on the clean metal of the blade, Monroe turning it over in her hands. 

“Just get it over with, I’ve had worse.” 

Monroe laughs. “Pain doesn’t stop being pain no matter how many times you experience it.”  
She steps closer and Theo’s chest is heaving with the need to _get away_, to shift and run, hates that her little dart thing is keeping him human. She eyes him up and down, lingering on his arms, his stomach where it’s pulled taut, somehow making Theo feel grosser than if she’d actually cut him. “Pretty little werewolf.” She pauses. “Oh, but wait. You’re not, are you? You’re just a cheap knock off.”

He’s about to tell her he’s perfect or something when she reaches out, slashes across his torso. The pain is an immediate shock, Theo grunting, surprised as always at how cold the metal is against his torn skin, his hot blood.

The wound is trying to close, sluggish, when she cuts again, across his arms, more of his chest, so low on his stomach that he almost panics, bites back the begging on the tip of his tongue. He’s had _worse_, he reminds himself. It’s just that this time, he’s not healing, allowing him to feel every wound, blood dripping slowly onto the floor. The sound is driving him crazy.

The worst is when she stands at his back, reaches up to bend his head forward in forced submission. It makes the wolf inside him insane, makes him feel sick in his own skin to submit to her. Where the fuck did Argent learn werewolf secrets like this, to pass down to her? “Be a good boy and tell me where the serum is,” she says, squeezing the nape of his neck, drawing the scalpel down his back in a lazy line. He’d shake his head if he could do anything but hang limp, breathing shallow like someone about to die. Is he about to die? He’s not sure, only knows to be grateful when Monroe releases his neck. She can make him submit, but not totally. Not enough to betray the pack. 

His skin is prickling, raw. He’s handling it, until Monroe starts pressing the scalpel into his stomach, vulnerable for her, going inch by slow inch. Theo can see the blood welling up, opens his mouth for a howl that doesn’t come. 

He’s dizzy, confused, keeps seeing Monroe and then his sister in flashes, lets his head fall back. Maybe he can pass out. Monroe makes an annoyed sound and does something with a lever that drops Theo roughly to the floor, his knees smacking hard. He follows his own momentum, splays out on the cool cement. He’s shuddering, feeling hot and cold, closes his eyes. 

Monroe is moving away from him, digging through her bag, exclaiming with satisfaction. He groans, turns his face into his shoulder. None of his cuts are healing, the wolfsbane doing its job.

“Please…” he says, not really sure who he’s talking to.

“Don’t worry, Theo. I’m not going to use the scalpel again.” He can hear the sound of her footsteps getting closer, doesn’t want to open his eyes. He can just sit here, in the dark, and get lost there. “Say thank you.” 

“_Fuck_ you,” he spits, drooling what he knows is mostly blood. He’s been hurt worse than this, he thinks. He can’t even remember anymore. She doesn’t get to win, is all he knows.

“Rude. Open your eyes.” Something nudges his stomach, and he curls into a ball around it, whimpering. “I said, _open your eyes_.” He does; he can’t help it, looks up to where Monroe is still perfect and poised even with his blood splattered across her face. 

“And I said _fuck you_.” Is the air heavy in here or is he just losing the ability to breathe? All he can hear is his own pounding heartbeat. 

“It’s almost cute how you’re still trying to fight me,” she muses, putting a hand to her chin. “Guess I’ll have to take drastic measures.” A scalpel wasn’t drastic enough? 

She’s...God, she’s holding a lead pipe wrapped in barbed wire. Theo can smell old blood on it, fear and pain even stronger than what usually surrounds Monroe. He actually snorts a laugh, thinking of Stiles so long ago, saying what he wanted most for Theo was to see him beaten with this exact weapon. It’s almost ironic or something, Theo is too dizzy to really think it through. 

“Why are you laughing?” Monroe bends, takes his chin in one well-manicured hand. He can’t believe she used to be someone as gentle as a guidance counselor. She takes to this kind of brutality so well. He lets the blood in his mouth spill over his lips and into her hands, grinning when she grimaces and pulls away, slapping him hard across the face. It barely even registers. “You should start telling me where it is now.”

“M’not telling you…_anything_...that’ll hurt my pack.” “Hm, but they’re not your pack, are they? I doubt any of them will miss you, you manufactured abomination.” Liam will, Theo is pretty sure. Liam will miss him. And probably Peter, too, he gets the feeling Peter likes him more than he lets on. 

Monroe drops his head with a sneer; his face smacking against the concrete must sound louder than it is. He can’t feel his fingers and toes anymore. “Just kill me,” Theo says, like he asked his sister to do a hundred times, like the couple times he asked the doctors to do the same. Just kill him, to get the pain over with. 

She drags the pipe over the ground, the noise a squeal, and gets to her feet. “Maybe later. I hope this really makes you reconsider your actions, if you survive.” Theo cringes as she raises the pipe over her head, but it doesn’t really do anything to protect him as she brings it down onto his ribs, Theo hearing them crack and splinter.

It takes a moment to feel the pain and he _screams_, arching, which makes it worse, makes him whimper and curl up again. “Fuck you,” he slurs against the taste of what might be the insides of his lungs. “Fuck you, fuck you, _fuck you_.” 

She bends, touches him. Her hand against the bare skin she just hit might be the worst part, to be so intimate with someone he hates this much, to have her trace a line over the muscles of his stomach, along his sternum and up to his face. Her skin is warm; it’s a fucked up sort of comfort, basic human touch. He shifts towards her without meaning to, bleary with pain, and she coos.

“Tell me where the serum is, and I’ll make the pain stop.” He waits til she takes his chin in one hand, getting confident, before he bites down, hard. Whatever she gave him stops him from turning, so it’s with his blunt human teeth, but the sound she makes as she yanks her hand back is worth it. He hopes she’s bleeding, hopes he can take a little bit from her when she’s taken so much from him. “Fucking _mongrel_,” she snarls, which, Theo is pretty sure he hasn’t heard her swear before, so at least he has that. “I’m going to kill you for that.”

“Y’gonna...kill me anyway.” 

She doesn’t answer, hits him with the pipe again, and now Theo knows that he’s never been in this much pain, wants to rip his skin off to get away from it, trying to howl with a human mouth. “No one’s coming for you. Stop _trying_, stop thinking anyone _cares_, just tell me where they are so I can kill you and at least I’ll have done _something_ good with my day.”

This time, he can’t answer back, can only gasp for breath as his vision goes fuzzy, as he realizes he’s probably actually going to die this time. He’s okay with it. He didn’t betray the pack. He didn’t betray Liam. It’s probably a fitting end for him, crying like a bitch in some weird basement. “You don’t have to stop,” he whispers into the cement floor, thinking of his sister ripping his heart out, of Malia trying to do the same. He really has terrible luck with women.

“Oh, Theo, I don’t plan to.” 

* * *

At some point, he’s pretty sure he smells Liam, that overly sugary scent that Peter complains about. Theo likes it, he’s always had a sweet tooth.

He thinks it’s kind of nice of his damaged brain to give him something good to die to, the best memories he has. And he’s definitely dying. Monroe’s stopped asking questions, not that Theo could answer them even if he wanted to. He’s kind of just lying there now, doesn’t have the strength to sit up, to open his eyes. She’s not even hitting him anymore. He hopes she hasn’t left the room, that would be rude, she should at least witness his death. If Theo had the balls to watch everyone he ever killed die, then she can extend the same courtesy. 

He can feel the poison crawling towards Tara’s heart, keeping all his broken bones from healing. He can’t say that lying in a pool of his own blood ever gets old, that’s always a novelty. 

Then he smells Scott, hears his roar, and yeah, that’s nice, too. Scott is his Alpha and possibly his friend, another good thing to die to. He’s really proud of his brain, making this whole experience so pleasant. He’s glad he’s an atheist, maybe he’ll just...stop. Stop existing, stop being in pain, stop having his body broken. 

Except he smells Argent, fury and wolfsbane, and opens one eye because Argent is _not_ someone he wants to die thinking about. Argent puts a knife to Theo’s throat like once a week.

He hears panicked human heartbeats, gunfire, comes out of his stupor enough to realize something serious is going on upstairs. It sounds like the pack actually came to rescue him, he can’t believe it. He’d call out if he could move his face. They’ll hear his fading heartbeat or something, he’s sure, although it would be funny if he were to die now, moments from salvation. It’s not to be; there are footsteps pounding down the stairs, Liam’s horrified gasp as Theo finally lets go and passes out.

* * *

Liam never wants to hear Lydia scream again; she’s hiccuping them, stopping and starting like she’s unsure if Theo’s going to die or not. Which is exactly the case, but it doesn’t help as Liam sits next to her in Scott’s speeding car, Lydia giving directions in a distracted way every few minutes. She pushes her hair away from her face, exposing the place where they drilled a hole in her head, now a thick knot of scar tissue. She has that look she sometimes gets, seeing what none of the rest of them can, scared by what she’s seeing, and guides them to an apartment building at the edge of Beacon Hills.

Monroe has been here all this time, it makes Liam sick to his stomach. The rest of the pack pile out of their own cars, all of them besides Ms. McCall, who waits to hear just how much medical treatment Theo is going to need. Which he _will_ need, he’s not dead. He’s not.

Liam doesn’t think Monroe was expecting him as they cut through her people, Peter especially not bothering to sheath his claws. The room is steamy, blood-hot, filled with the dying and something in Liam revels in that. He doesn’t know if that’s the wolf, or just who he is. Maybe both. 

He can’t smell Theo over all this, but he knows he’s here, because Monroe is here, her face splattered with what Liam immediately knows is Theo’s blood, calling commands to her troops. 

They’re fighting in what used to be the apartment’s pool, which in other circumstances would be very cool. Right now, Liam is solely focused on reaching Monroe where she stands on the steps at the shallow end. He’s never killed anyone before. He’s willing to start today.

He’s close, just not close enough as Monroe yelps in surprise, looks down at the bullet wound in her sternum, the blood spreading fast. She puts her hands there, clutching like she can keep it all in, more blood bubbling up from her mouth, onto the tile floor. She sinks to her knees as the pack takes out the last few stragglers, and Liam spares her a glance while he’s running to where he finally hears Theo’s heartbeat. Argent is bent over her body, slipping his pistol away, rolling Monroe to her back. “This is what a real hunter does. They take down monsters,” he says as Monroe takes her final, choked breath. 

Liam doesn’t have time to celebrate. He’s closely following Scott and Stiles down the stairs of what used to be a storage room, an old pool noodle still lying in one corner. It’s ludicrous and weird against the smell of past torture, the blood splotches, and Theo lying in the middle on his side. He’s so broken that Liam has to turn aside or cry out, can only see the wounds, the bones sticking out at odd angles. 

Stiles notices the lead pipe with barbed wire on it and makes this horrible sound that could be a laugh, could be a sob. 

They’re too _late_, Theo is dead, Liam’s about to get hysterical when he realizes he can still hear the faint beat of a pulse.

“Stiles, get my mom, she’ll have an antidote to wolfsbane,” Scott orders, taking over as he kneels next to Theo’s body. Liam wants to take some pain, can’t find a spot that isn’t covered in blood, touches bare skin anyway and almost throws up from it. He wants to look away and can’t, swaying til Scott puts a steadying hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be okay, Liam. He’s had worse.” Liam can hear the stutter in Scott’s heartbeat, but he doesn’t mention it. 

* * *

Theo wakes up in a hospital bed, an IV hooked up to his arm. He rips it out immediately; he hates having anything put in him without knowing exactly what it is.

He looks down at himself, half expecting to see scars, maybe a cast, but he’s smooth as usual, healed from his ordeal. Being supernatural doesn’t always suck.

He’s still in Beacon Hills, it has a certain feeling Theo’s become familiar with, so he’s probably safe. It seems unlikely for Monroe to heal him this thoroughly only to torture him again. She’s a maniac, but she’s not that kind of maniac. She also probably wouldn’t put him in this hospital gown.

Theo’s halfway through peeling it off his body when he hears the door creak open, turns to see Liam. He looks exhausted, harried, but the sugar smell of him is enough to soothe Theo as he takes the rest of the gown off. He spent most of his life with mad scientists, it’s not like he’s socialized. And he knows what he looks like, stands up straight, flexing a little.

Liam swallows. Starts talking, stops, tries again, his eyes trailing over Theo’s thighs, his chest, in a way that feels nothing like when Monroe did it. Then he almost sobs, barrelling into Theo, hugging him close and safe. 

Theo doesn’t really know what to do with this armful of Liam, smelling mournful and relieved and happy, warm against his bare skin. He never thought he would get this again, presses his face to Liam’s hair and takes his own shuddering breath. 

“Dude...oh my God,” Liam says into Theo’s shoulder, sagging against him. 

“I almost bled out and you’re calling me _dude?_” 

“Uh...baby?”

Theo flushes, which is amazing considering how much blood he lost. “I _meant_ that you should call me _Theo_.”

He has Liam looking up at him, golden skin and those eyes, and for once since he came back from underground he doesn’t punish himself. He takes Liam’s chin between two of his fingers, tips his head up, and kisses him once, twice, feeling Liam sigh against his lips. “_Theo_.”

“Fuck,” Theo breathes, almost forgets he’s naked until Liam puts one warm hand on his bare hip, pushes him back and onto the hospital bed where he can splay out.

There must be something Liam likes there, because before Theo knows what’s happening he has a lapful of Liam, the best weight he’s ever had there, Liam holding Theo’s throat in one hand, pushing his head back. “Submit to me, just…_please_,” Liam murmurs against Theo’s neck, biting with just a hint of fang. This is nothing like submitting to Monroe; Theo tips his head back, waits as Liam puts his teeth to his throat just like Theo did the other night but harder, Theo resisting the urge to fight it before he goes boneless, something embarrassingly like a whimper coming from his mouth. 

Liam lets him go, licks up to his chin, Theo stuck in place and he’s...presenting, that’s what he’s doing, the thought sending a hot shudder through him. He’s never done this before, never been this vulnerable, Liam’s hands on his shoulders, his arms, pinching a nipple so he yelps.

Liam smiles at him, this soft, adoring thing Theo’s never seen on his face before, like Theo is worth something, like he’s precious. Liam’s hands rise to Theo’s face and it’s back to soft kisses, Liam drinking the tiny noises Theo’s making off his lips, smoothing his hands up Theo’s back. 

They sit there for a while, not kissing, not talking, just holding, Theo with his arms around Liam’s waist, keeping him close, head tucked in his neck. He’s hard but ignoring it, content for now just to be here, with Liam, in the knowing silence between them. Content to stay here forever. The rest of the world can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you were curious, this fic started with this list. bask in my trope genius:  
What do we want?  
WEREWOLF FANFICTION  
When do we want it?  
SOMETIME IN THE FUTURE  
What do we want out of it?  
THIS  
*pack bonding  
*isaac lahey-isaac comes to visit and he's all cool and european and theo gets JEALOUS  
*scott mccall is a GOOD friend and a GOOD alpha  
*werewolves are WEIRD AND TOUCH A LOT AND SMELL THINGS  
*the /tension/  
*stiles/derek/lydia  
*theo is not a bad person anymore but he isn't a good one either  
*his heart -his sister's heart-  
*liam is a good sweet person but he's not a child  
*you...you're wearing my clothes?  
*SCENT MARKING  
*exposing your neck is SEXY  
*it's hard to love someone when everyone around you hates them...not so hard when they're just kinda indifferent  
*theo keeps bringing shit to liam like some kind of weird cat because AFFECTION  
*i'm going to slam you up against a wall because i love you  
*theo is liam's anchor  
*theo almost dies for the pack to prove his devotion


End file.
